Confessions
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Draco and Hermione confront the past when their children begin to ask questions about the war. One-shot!


I own nothing. Happy reading!

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><p>Clara Malfoy stepped off the Hogwarts Express, home for the Christmas holidays. It should have been a joyous homecoming, but something she had heard at school plagued her mind for weeks. Standing on the platform, she spotted her parents and older sister, Cecelia. Slowly, she approached her family, and accepted her mother's tearful embrace.<p>

Her father reached for her, but she was tense in his arms. He said nothing, but he looked worried. Clara had always been the enthusiastic daughter, the child whose personality was neither Malfoy nor Granger. Cecelia was smart, studious, and quiet like their mother, but had their father's cunning. Clara marched to the beat of her own drum. She was prone to daydreams and fantastical storytelling, and though she enjoyed reading, she was never the serious student that her sister was.

The trip home was quiet and awkward, despite her mother's attempts to ask about school. Clara was in her first year of Hogwarts, and her letters had been full of stories and excitement. Despite her father's protests that no child of his would ever be a Hufflepuff, Clara relished her house placement. It was a calm environment, and her housemates had made her feel welcome. While Cecelia toiled away in Ravenclaw, striving to be the student their parents were, Clara was more content to live each day one at a time.

Arriving home, Draco led her to his study. "Talk," he said, sitting on the sofa.

Clara remained by the door. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

"It's not nothing," he replied, patting the seat beside him. "Come sit by your favorite dad and tell me what's wrong."

Sighing, she gave in. Seated beside her father, Draco gave one of her brown curls a gentle tug. Once again, he implored her to talk to him. "I heard something at school," she began, her heart hammering as she spoke. "Some of the older kids are studying the war in History of Magic, and they were talking about you and Mum. One of the boys said something about you, something about you letting Death Eaters into the school. Is that true?"

Looking away, he nodded. Before he continued, he called Hermione and Cecelia to join them. "Cee doesn't know about this either," he told her as they waited. Confused, mother and daughter joined them. Hermione sat down next to her husband, but he offered no explanation. "I think the two of you are old enough to ask us about the war. Love, if you don't want to be involved, that's okay."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's fine," she assured him. "It was bound to come up eventually."

Nodding, Draco turned his attention to Clara. "I was sixteen," he told her. "Your grandfather was in prison, and I was afraid that disobeying You Know Who would cost your grandmother her life. So, I let the Death Eaters into the school, and a lot of people were hurt by what I did."

Cecelia frowned. "You were a Death Eater?" she asked. "But Mum fought with the Order."

"I did," Hermione said. "I did what I had to do to protect the people I loved, and that's exactly what your father did too."

"Why would you marry a Death Eater?" she wondered.

Hermione scowled at her eldest child. "Because when you love someone, you forgive the actions of a scared boy who tried to save his family," she replied defensively. They had been enemies as children, but the war had changed her husband. He had returned to school friendless and lonely. A month had passed before he finally sought her out. She had fallen asleep in the library, and a nightmare alerted him to her presence. Sitting down beside her, he rubbed her back, coaxing her to awaken. When she did, her head snapped up, and he saw the tears in her eyes. They said nothing after that, but every night after, they met in the library before parting ways.

"I wasn't always good to her," Draco confessed. "We were...mean to each other as children, but I'm grateful for the second chance she gave me. We wouldn't have the two of you if she hadn't."

Clara, who had remained silent, held her father's arm. "What changed?" she asked.

Smiling, Draco looked at his wife of fifteen years. "I realized I couldn't live without my best friend," he replied. "Your mum was the only friend I had when I went back to school. When I needed her, she was there for me. I fell in love with her, and swore I'd never hurt her again."

Cecelia cleared her throat. "I thought we were talking about the war," she reminded them, wanting to get back on track so she could leave. The war was never discussed in the Malfoy house, and any questions she had raised in the past went unanswered. It was too difficult for her parents to talk about, and Cecelia had understood that. The second Clara had questions, though, they were ready to talk. Nodding, her father asked if there was anything she wanted to know. "Why didn't you tell us this before?" she wondered. "You had to know we'd learn about the war in school. Didn't you think it should come from you, not the teachers?"

"Yes, it should have," Hermione agreed. She saw so much of herself in her older daughter. It was not just a similar personality, but she also had her mother's looks - dark, curly hair, a small nose, and front teeth that were just slightly too big. Gray eyes were the only physical trait she had inherited from her father. She looked to Clara next. Wide, curious, brown eyes met her as the littlest Malfoy smiled encouragingly. "It always should have come from us. It's just-"

"It's hard to think that your actions as a teenager will make your children hate you," Draco interjected, his eyes trained on Cecelia.

Regret and sorrow paled her complexion. Moving from her seat on the floor, she stood over her father and hugged him. "I don't hate you," she whispered. "I'll never hate you, Daddy."

"I did horrible things," he continued, seating her on his lap. It didn't matter that she was a teenager, she was still his baby. "I did things I will never be proud of. People were hurt because of me. It's not an easy time to talk about, especially with the two of you. As much as I idolized my father, I was also afraid of him. I never wanted my children to fear me."

"I'm not afraid of you, Daddy," Clara said, tightening her hold on his arm.

"You never gave us a reason to be," Cecelia added.

He had made a conscious decision long before Cee was born that he would not be his father. Draco was caring and affectionate, letting his girls know that he loved him. He was there for every milestone, from first words and steps to proudly displaying their artwork around his office. At night, he would tuck them in, kiss their foreheads, and assure them that he would see them the next day. Despite his initial hesitations, he had taken swiftly to fatherhood. It was his favorite job.

Hermione cleared her throat when she noticed the tears beginning to well in her husband's eyes. "Why don't the two of you get into your pajamas," she suggested. "We'll have movie night and get takeaway." Slowly, the girls pulled away and left the study. When they were gone, Draco sighed heavily and shifted to recline. "Are you okay?" she asked, running her fingers through soft blond locks.

"I knew we'd have to talk about this one day," he said tiredly. "I'll admit I wasn't expecting that reaction. Cee seemed pretty angry at first."

"She thinks Clara's your favorite," Hermione shared. Draco balked at the thought, but his wife shrugged. "Cece was always more attached to me, and Clara gravitates to you. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just...she's asked us so many times about the war, and we wouldn't talk to her about it. Clara asks, and you're ready to share your deepest, darkest secrets with your eleven year old. The thirteen year old feels a bit left out, I think."

Nodding, he got to his feet. The girls' bedrooms were on the second floor of their small, two story home. For the first few years of their lives, they had shared a room, but needed to be separated when Cecelia developed magic and a temper. He stopped outside her door to examine the bulletin board that hung there. Her Hogwarts letter, a Ravenclaw badge, and photos of her friends and family decorated the board. One picture caught his eye. It had been taken by his mother the night before Cee started school. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off his daughter until the train disappeared from sight.

The door opened abruptly, startling him. "Sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Did you need something?" she asked, inviting him into her room. It had been pink until she requested the walls match her school house.

He perused the books on her dresser, keeping his back to her. "You know I don't have a favorite," he said. In the mirror, he caught her confused expression. "Between you and your sister, I don't have a favorite."

"Right, you wish we were both boys," she teased, reminding him of the old joke he would tell when the girls asked who was his favorite. He gave a short laugh, and finally turned to face her. "Daddy, I'm sorry for how I acted. You've always been so good to us. When we scraped our knees, you kissed them to make it better. You cuddled with us and hugged us. You just never seemed like what I thought a Death Eater was."

"I didn't want to be one," he told her. "I meant it when I said I did what I did to save your grandmother's life. There was no other motive. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Your mother is the only one who ever believed that. Her friends stopped talking to her for a long time. Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron didn't see her until you were born. I always blamed myself for that, you know, that I ruined her life. She always said I didn't, but I don't know."

"Daddy, you didn't ruin Mum's life," Cecelia replied. "You're not a bad guy, Dad."

He nodded contritely, staring into the hallway as a small figure ducked out of sight. Clara grinned as Draco called to her. "I wasn't eavesdropping," she said, joining her father and sister. "I'm with Cece though. You're not a bad guy, Daddy."

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing the top of Clara's head before showing Cecelia the same affection. "So, have you asked all your questions? Can we celebrate my little girls' homecoming now?"

Smiling, Clara bounded out of the room with Cecelia on her heels. Hermione stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Draco grinned as he rose to greet her with a kiss. "Think we did the right thing?"

"I feel like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders," she shared. "Besides, you can do no wrong when it comes to those two. You're quite loved around here, Mr. Malfoy. Are you happy?"

He took a brief moment to consider his life and the wonderful blessings he had received since meeting his wife. "I wouldn't change a thing."


End file.
